


A Rose Blooms

by DPPatricks



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 20:29:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14172807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks
Summary: Twenty hours in the lives of our two stalwart cops that turns outnotto be a typical day by any stretch of the imagination.WARNING: This story contains non-consensual oral sex.





	A Rose Blooms

PART ONE

Ken Hutchinson was waiting for his partner, Dave Starsky, outside Venice Place because it was two-thirty a.m. and he didn’t want to make Starsky have to come up and get him. They were starting a new undercover assignment and for some reason Hutch couldn’t put his finger on, he wasn’t looking forward to it. He didn’t believe in premonitions but it almost felt as if he was experiencing one. Pacing back and forth in front of the building, he heard the distinctive rumble from more than a block away and stepped to the curb. When the Torino came to him, he opened the passenger door and climbed in before the car had come to a complete stop. He attempted to banish his sullen expression but was afraid he hadn’t done a very good job.

Starsky must have sensed Hutch’s less-than-enthusiastic mood because he plastered a cheerful smile on his face. “And a very good middle-of-the-night to you, too, buddy!” He pulled onto the traffic-free street.

“Starsky…” Hutch forced himself to lighten his tone of voice and began again. “Starsky, do you ever get the feeling the department brass enjoy playing games with us?”

“Whaddaya talkin’ about?”

“Undercover assignments on a cruise ship, in a dance studio, a hair salon, a film company, and now a flower shop?” 

“Florist, please. Dobey said this guy’s sensitive about his reputation. Claims to have the three best full-service floral facilities in the city and likes his places to be called florists.”

“What’s the difference?” Hutch truly didn’t know and was curious.

“Flower shops can be anything from a few buckets of posies on the sidewalk to a small place making bouquets for guys to take to their girlfriends, boyfriends, or mothers.” Starsky cast him a quick look before turning back to the road. “A florist does everything from weddings and funerals, centerpieces for special events and corsages, to those same sentimental bouquets.”

Hutch considered himself gently reprimanded and nodded his acceptance of the information. “Okay, florist. But why do we have to be the ones to go in? What’s wrong with Babcock and Simmons?”

Starsky laughed out loud. “Can you imagine either one of them being a convincing floral designer?”

“No, but --”

“Hutch, I predict you’re going to enjoy this gig.” His partner reached over and patted his arm. “You’re an artist, you know design and color, and you’re really good with your hands. Flowers are like music and you love music. You’ll be a natural!”

“You sound awfully knowledgeable, Starsk. Do you have any experience?”

Starsky looked quite pleased with himself. “As a matter of fact, I do.” 

“Really?”

“Yep. The year before pop was killed, I worked three days a week, early mornings and evenings, at the FTD shop on the corner. I ran local deliveries, bleached the buckets, changed the water, and gave fresh cuts --”

“Fresh cuts?” That was a phrase Hutch had never heard.

Starsky nodded. “Every day or so, stems need to be trimmed a little so that they can drink. Otherwise, the flowers die before they should.”

Hutch was impressed. His best friend didn’t drop clues to his youth very often and, when he did, it was almost always in a guarded or circumspect manner. In this case, Starsky seemed content, even happy with the experience he’d had. “Did you ever do arrangements?”

“Naw. Ol’ Man Delaney said I didn’t have the touch.” Starsky’s expression turned encouraging and supportive. “But you will, I just know it. Trust me.”

“So this guy, Jim Bennon, is going to introduce me and you to everybody at the mart as his new designer and driver, is that it?”

“That’s my take.”

“All to find out if his vague suspicions about drugs coming into the country in flower shipments from South America is right?” 

“I gave Terry roses that time, remember?” Starsky sent him one of those I-don’t-really-want-to-start-a-conversation-but-you-need-to-hear-this looks. “Gorgeous, long-stemmed beauties?”

Hutch didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to dredge up those memories any more than Starsky did.

“They came from Ecuador. The guy who made up the arrangement for me said they’re beginning to grow the best roses in the world down there.”

Hutch mentally breathed a sigh of relief, this was safe ground. “And some enterprising soul has taken the opportunity to combine roses with drugs, and import both.”

“Gotta admit, Hutch, If that’s what’s going on, it’s a pretty good scheme.”

“So we use our cover with Mr. Bennon to discover whether or not it’s happening. If it’s yes, then we determine the ‘who’ and ‘how,’ bring the Narco guys in, and shut them down.”

Starsky lifted a shoulder. “Sounds easy, doesn’t it?”

“Nothing’s ever easy, Starsk, we both know that.”

“Let’s think positive, partner.”

Starsky pulled the Torino into a well-lighted alley behind ‘Enchanted Gardens,’ where a middle-aged gentleman, standing next to a delivery van, awaited them. 

As Starsky cut the engine, Hutch caught headlights in his side-view mirror and watched a gold-colored Firebird pull up right behind them. The Torino was now effectively blocked in and Hutch instinctively put his hand on the butt of his Python. He noticed Starsky reach under his jacket as well. 

The gentleman took a step forward, motioning for the driver of the Pontiac to join him. Looking over his shoulder, Hutch saw a tall, athletically lean, classically handsome man climb out of the sporty car. Appearing to be about his and Starsky’s age, he had elegantly styled burnished blond hair that fell nearly to the collar of his form-fitting, long-sleeved satiny shirt. His trousers hugged muscular legs and did nothing to camouflage the bulge at his crotch. _This guy sure likes to advertise_ , Hutch sent silently to Starsky. _Hope I won’t be expected to dust off my gay routine._

Starsky caught his eye in non-vocal reply and Hutch could tell his partner’s entire demeanor had switched from upbeat cheerfulness to guarded tension. “I guess that’s the designer you’ll be working with. Don’t take your eyes off him for one single second, okay?”

Hutch didn’t understand where the instant wariness had come from but he knew his partner well enough not to dismiss the advice. 

The gentleman in front of their car beckoned to Starsky and Hutch. They got out and approached the men who were now standing side by side. The older man half-bowed. “Jim Bennon. Captain Dobey said he’d send me his best.” He held out his hand to Starsky, who was a little closer. “You must be Detectives Ken Hutchinson and Dave Starsky.”

“I’m Starsky, he’s Hutchinson.” Starsky shook the hand, trying hard to hide a long-suffering sigh that said to Hutch, _we’ve been here before_.

Bennon had the decency to show embarrassment. “My mistake.” He reached for Hutch’s hand and shook it firmly before gesturing to the man beside him. “This is my designer, Eddie Nash.”

Nash held out his hand and first Hutch, then Starsky, shook it.

Starsky was blatantly appraising the man. “Brown eyes and blond hair isn’t very common, Mr. Nash.” Hutch caught an unusual tone in his partner’s voice and knew the unease he’d sensed went deeper than he’d thought. “What salon do you use?” 

Nash showed perfect teeth in a dazzling smile. “Paradise, on Ninth. I’ve been going there for years, ever since I started turning gray at twenty. It was okay for my father but not for me.” He stared at Starsky more closely, his smile becoming smug. “Deep blue eyes and dark hair isn’t common, either, Detective. Who do you use?”

Instead of the explosion Hutch expected, Starsky waved a negligent hand. “I do it myself. Clairol. A cop getting a dye job in a beauty salon wouldn’t go over real big with the brass.”

Hutch couldn’t ever remember Starsky being aggressively confrontational with anyone who wasn’t a Federal agent or stuffed-shirt lawyer, and decided to send the conversation in a different direction. “Why did you need us here so early, Mr. Bennon?” 

“The Mart opens at four.” Bennon, himself, appeared happy to have the conversation steered onto safer ground. “If I want the best and the freshest, I have to be there then. So…” he gestured toward the delivery van. “You and I, Dave,” he glanced at Starsky, “will take my wheels. Eddie can bring Ken in his car.”

Starsky shook his head. “My partner and I’ll follow you in the Torino, sir. We’ll be right behind you.” He put his hand on Hutch’s back. 

Hutch half-turned and lowered his voice so that only Starsky would hear him. “What’s going on, Starsk?”

Before his partner could reply, Bennon spoke up and they both had to turn back to him. “I need to see how you handle my truck, son. Eddie knows the route I take. He and Detective Hutchinson won’t get lost, I promise.”

Starsky obviously didn’t like the situation one damn bit but there wasn’t anything they could do about it. With a hand that trailed down Hutch’s arm when he followed Bennon, Starsky left him with a look that Hutch read as more than distrustful; it was darn near fearful. Somehow, Starsky seemed to have picked up Hutch’s earlier disquiet and doubled it! He was shaking his head, mentally, and vowing to be more vigilant than ever when Nash put a hand on his other arm.

“Dave’s car will be fine here in the alley, Ken. Jimmy has twenty-four hour security monitoring this location and everybody knows to stay far away.” 

Still staring after his best friend, who was climbing into the driver’s side of the delivery van, Hutch allowed himself to be directed to the Firebird where he took the shotgun seat. Nash started the powerful engine, pulled around the Torino, and followed the van out onto the street

*******

Hutch was amazed at the level of activity at this early hour in the flower mart. Dozens of vendors had already set out more buckets of every variety and color of flora than he’d ever seen in one place. 

“Mornin’, Fred.” Bennon approached a heavy-set man wearing a green-stained apron. “Want you to meet my new driver, Dave…” he indicated Starsky before tilting his head toward Hutch, “and Ken, my new designer. Eddie, here, is so busy he needs help. I’m givin’ each of these guys a tryout for the next few weeks.”

“Glad t’ meetcha.” Fred stuck out his hand and Starsky, then Hutch, clasped it.

Bennon pointed to several buckets holding bunches of huge-headed flowers. One container held white blooms, the others, brilliant yellow. “Your Chinas are gorgeous! I’ll take every bunch.”

Fred nodded. “They’ll be ready when you come back, Jimmy.”

As they made their way through the heavily-scented high-ceilinged, open-ended football-field-size space, Hutch heard references to more flowers than he had known existed. At one point, he leaned toward Starsky. “I don’t see any sunflowers,” he murmured, sotto voce. “I love sunflowers.”

Starsky shook his head and rubbed the small of his back in what Hutch took to be a sympathetic gesture. “Wrong season.” He leaned closer. “And I don’t want to be on this job long enough for it to get to be the right one.” 

Hutch put an arm across Starsky’s shoulders. “Let’s go to my place tonight and we can figure out what’s bothering both of us, okay?”

“You got it.”

Hutch dropped his arm and walked up next to Bennon who had just passed right by a vendor with hundreds of long-stemmed roses on display. “No roses today, Mr. Bennon?”

Bennon stopped in an intersection of aisles, drawing a few dirty looks from buyers who had to detour around the four of them. Jim kept his voice down. “I don’t want to offend the guys here, they sell pretty good stuff, but Eddie turned me onto a supplier out of South America a year or so ago and I’ve been getting all my roses from him. He cuts them, boxes them up, ships them by air, and I have them the next day. Beats anything I could get here for freshness, so my arrangements last days longer than those from most other shops.”

“Sounds expensive,” Hutch said.

Bennon shrugged. “He gives me a really good deal since I buy his entire cutting every week. And my customers love his roses. Works out for both of us, I guess.” Glancing around, he must have realized they were blocking traffic. “Let’s go. There are a few other sellers I want you to meet, then we’ll get some breakfast at the café while my orders are being put together.”

As the florist made his choices at numerous stalls, Hutch did his best to remember which ones were asters, Delphiniums, Gerbera daisies, lisianthus, liatris, statice, tiger lilies, Stargazers, and dozens of other names. Button mums were easy and gladiolas had grown in his mother’s garden. Bennon didn’t purchase a single stem of Baby’s Breath though. “Hate the stuff,” he said, heatedly. “It’s pedestrian and ridiculously over-used. My preferred ‘filler flower’ is alstroemeria. They make my rose arrangements elegantly unique and don’t cost me all that much more.” 

When they reached the large café, Bennon steered them to a side booth. Hutch noticed a busboy look in their direction and almost missed the nearly imperceptible nod he and Eddie exchanged. 

After Hutch slid into the booth, Starsky sat next him, immediately leaning across him to reach the napkin dispenser and salt and pepper shakers. Hutch wasn’t at all surprised to hear a whispered, “Busboy.” He pressed against Starsky’s shoulder in acknowledgement.

Nash, then Bennon, slid in on the other side of the table. When the same busboy brought their waters, Bennon smiled at him. “Coffee all around, please, Nathan. We’ll order in a minute.”

Nathan nodded and scooted away.

“My daughter, Lily,” Bennon began, keeping his voice low, “says there are lots more drugs on the street these days. She’s talked to her friends and they’ve come up with the idea that they may be coming into the country in deliveries of flowers. I’d hate to think that any of my employees is involved but, since Lily’s my treasure and I need to keep her as safe as possible, I want to find out, for sure, if my stores are the front for a drug-runner.”

Nathan appeared with a tray and distributed full cups of coffee. A harried-looking waitress was right behind him.

After they made their requests and she scurried away, Hutch raised his cup toward the florist. “We appreciate your help, Mr. Bennon.”

“Jim, please.”

While Bennon babbled about his business, Hutch did his best to dispel his own and Starsky’s unease by pressure along Starsky’s side, from ankle to shoulder. Their breakfasts arrived and were eaten amid a discussion of what was involved in operating three successful florist locations. Thankfully, Valentine’s Day had passed so Hutch wouldn’t be thrown into the melee of making up dozens of arrangements of red, and every other color roses, in a twenty-four-hour time span. “If you haven’t tied up your investigation by Mother’s Day, Ken, you’ll see the kind of chaos we florists go through a few times each year.” 

As soon as Bennon had paid the bill, he slipped out of the booth. “Let’s go collect my flowers, Dave, and load up the truck. Eddie’ll take Ken over to the exotics’ section. Even though I get my tropicals directly from Hawaii and New Zealand, it won’t hurt to have Ken meet everybody here and learn the difference between a bird of paradise and a cymbidium orchid. If he doesn’t already know.”

Hutch sensed that Starsky was about to refuse and patted his partner’s arm. “Eddie’ll show me around the rest of the mart, and we’ll meet you both back at the store.”

Starsky was definitely not happy. With a look that Hutch was unable to decipher, he got up and trailed Bennon out of the café.

Nathan appeared, a fresh pot of coffee in one hand and a loaded bus tray in the other. With dexterity, and not spilling a drop, he refilled Hutch’s and Nash’s cups. A few seconds after he walked away though, there was a shriek and loud crash behind their booth. Hutch, his hand already under his jacket, spun around and saw that people had jumped up, brushing themselves off. The busboy had evidently dropped the tray of dirty plates, cups and glasses and the floor was a mess. Luckily, it appeared as if people had only been splattered with water, not hot coffee, and all the items were plastic so there’d been no breakage. With mumbled apologies, Nathan began the clean-up. 

“I swear that guy’s a klutz,” Nash said when Hutch turned back. “Drink up, Ken, while I tell you about tropicals.” 

Hutch drank as Nash educated him about the vendors he’d be meeting and rattled off the names of exotic blooms he’d be expected to know and work with over the coming weeks. Almost between one swallow and the next, Hutch began to feel woozy. His vision blurred and he discovered he couldn’t speak clearly. “Wha… wha… ve you done?”

Eddie lifted his left hand and Nathan materialized at the booth. Hutch did his best to resist but the two men casually hauled him to his feet, put his arms over their shoulders and, with Eddie murmuring, “not feeling very well,” to the people they passed, he and the busboy got Hutch out to Nash’s car. When they’d pulled into the huge parking lot earlier, Nash has slotted the Firebird under some trees at the far side, saying he tried to keep direct sun off the hood’s expensive decal. Now, fuzzily, Hutch understood the real reason the car was so far away from every other vehicle.

“I need your help with this one, Nate.” Nash opened the passenger door, they folded Hutch into the seat, and belted him in. As he straightened up, Hutch heard him say, “Tell your boss you’re taking an hour and meet me at my place. I’ll make it up to you.”

Hutch fought the effects of whatever drug he’d been given but it was useless. He passed out.

 

PART TWO

When he regained consciousness Hutch knew he was in deep trouble. He was naked, stretched in an ‘X’ position within the frame of an oversize doorway. His wrists and ankles were clamped in fleece-lined leather manacles and these were attached to large eyebolts in the corners of the jamb. He tested each of his restraints and there wasn’t the slightest give to any of them. 

Craning to look over his shoulder, he could tell that the room behind him appeared to be a bedroom; in front was a sparsely furnished living room. He couldn’t hear anything but Nash and the busboy might be anywhere. 

“Starsky?” He tried the name tentatively, in case his partner was close and trying not to attract attention to himself. There was no answer.

Eddie Nash stepped into the room from a side door. “Good, you’re awake. I’m never sure about the dosage.” He glided forward, stopping within touching distance but keeping his hands at his sides while his eyes devoured Hutch’s nude form. “You are, without a doubt, the most gorgeous man I have ever seen.”

Hutch made sure his expression remained neutral. “What’s going on, Eddie? Where’s your accomplice?”

Nash lifted a shoulder. “Nate’s on his way back to the café. I only needed him to help me get you stripped and rigged up.” His cool eyes flicked over the wrist and ankle cuffs. “You were quite a handful.”

“You can’t possibly think you’ll get away with this.”

“No, of course not. I know your partner will find this place, eventually. I also know that, as an importer of fine illegal drugs, I’ll be out of business very soon. I knew that the minute Jimmy called me this morning and said we were going to introduce two cops around the mart.” His gaze, turning positively lecherous, lowered to Hutch’s crotch. “However, as soon as I laid eyes on you, I decided not to ditch this town immediately.” 

Hutch could almost feel this pervert’s hands on his genitals and he tamped down a shiver.

“I simply _had_ to take the chance to get to know you… intimately… first.” Nash raised his right hand toward Hutch’s left shoulder. “Even your scars are a turn-on.”

Hutch jerked away as far as possible. “Don’t touch me!” 

Nash stepped back, clearly surprised, his hand frozen in mid-air. “Don’t you like it when Dave does?”

" _What_?”

Nash folded his arms across his chest and appraised Hutch’s body again. “I would have bet every shekel I’ve stashed away that Dave was a consummate lover, and that you enjoyed his caresses.”

Hutch couldn’t keep the shock and disgust out of his voice. “Starsky’s my _partner_!” 

Nash retreated and sat on the arm of an upholstered chair, his expression now bordering on pity. “What a waste. And such a shame.” He shook his head. “Catholic upbringing, Ken? Or Lutheran? It was probably one or the other. You don’t look like a Southern Baptist to me.”

When Hutch didn’t reply, Nash got up and strolled back, closer this time. “He’s in love with you, you know.” He stared into Hutch’s eyes before he cocked his head. “Or maybe you don’t.” Hutch wanted to look away but found that Nash’s gaze was nearly mesmerizing. “You don’t see it, do you? In your mind, he’s never been anything except a friend. You must be so repressed and closed off he’s never told you, or showed you, how he feels.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Eddie. Starsky and I are ladies’ men.”

Nash shook his head again. “You poor baby.” He laid his right hand flat on Hutch’s chest. “So you’ve never felt a man’s hands on your body?”

With an effort, Hutch broke eye contact. “I like women.”

Nash laughed. “And I’ll just bet they love you! But believe me, Ken, only a man knows how to pleasure another man.” His left hand dropped and gently enfolded Hutch’s penis. His little finger began to rub along the back vein ever so lightly and Hutch was astonished at the heat that radiated through him from that simple contact. “Oh, I suppose a woman could read a book about how to make love to a man but since she doesn’t have the equipment, and has never felt the sensations she’s trying to generate, how can she _know_ the way to handle, and please, the most sensitive organs on the planet?”

Without ceasing his ministrations to the captive shaft, Eddie delicately traced the areola of Hutch’s left nipple with the fingertips of his right hand. “Female tits are completely different from a man’s, too. And if you ever find a woman who tries to make love to yours, she’ll more than likely do a poor job of it. I, on the other hand, am a master.” 

Eddie continued to stroke and caress. “You’re like one of my long-stemmed roses, Ken, straight and beautiful. But you’re so tightly folded in on yourself you may never fully bloom. A rose is meant to unfurl, showing the soft inside of each individual petal as it’s exposed to light. Sometimes they even subtly change color as they do this.” He lightly pinched the nub before rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “Your nipple seems to enjoy my attentions. It’s swelling, darkening, and getting hard.” 

Intense hatred for his own body coursed through Hutch because, entirely against his will, the parts under Nash’s assault were responding. 

“No girlfriend has ever loved you the way I could, Ken.” He gripped Hutch’s member tighter and began to stroke the full length of it at the same time he bent and licked the pert bud. “Or the way Dave would.”

“Stop it!” Hutch lurched, almost dislocating his shoulders. It hurt like hell but he glared at his tormentor. “If you intend to fuck me, get on with it! I won’t play your stupid game!”

Nash leaned back but didn’t relinquish his hold on the two pieces of flesh that Hutch felt were utterly betraying him. “Perhaps we will get to that part later, Ken, I don’t know. Right now, though…” He dropped to his knees and took Hutch’s cock into his mouth.

Hutch closed his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to see the light-haired head moving in and out at his groin. He knew tears were leaking from under the lids but he couldn’t seem to stop them. What Nash was doing to him was horrifying, and terrifying, and… enthralling. No woman, not even Gillian, had ever sent the sensations through him that he was feeling from this man’s mouth and hands. It was so disturbing it suddenly became uncontrollably nauseating.

Whether Eddie had expected it or simply had excellent reflexes didn’t matter. He fell away in time to avoid the regurgitated breakfast.

Hutch didn’t know which embarrassed him more, having vomited almost on top of someone, or having had his body turn traitor on him. The tears continued to seep from under his clenched eyelids. He could hear Nash moving around, water running in either a bathroom or kitchen, and the sound of his sick being cleaned up. Finally getting himself under shaky control, he opened his eyes.

Eddie Nash stood in front of him and his expression was filled with what looked like sorrow rather than lust. “Poor, sweet baby.” 

“Don’t say that again! I’m no one’s baby and I’m certainly not sweet.”

Nash put a hand to the back of Hutch’s head, holding it in place, while he kissed him on the mouth. 

Hutch pressed his lips together as tightly as he possibly could. If he tried to bite, Nash might figure out some other way to violate him. At least this contact was revolting his body, not turning it on.

Nash drew back. “I’ve never met anyone so desperately afraid of his feelings. You’ve closed yourself off from the entire world, including your best friend… who’d give everything he owns to be more.”

“Where is that coming from, Nash? You only met us this morning. You can’t know anything about Starsky and me.”

Eddie stepped back and surveyed him again. “I saw the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is paying attention. How unsettled he was when Jimmy said you and I would be driving to the mart together, then took him away to load the truck. He did _not_ want to leave you alone with me!”

“Starsky and I’ve been together a long time, that’s all.”

“You touch each other a lot and they’re caring, loving touches.” Nash crossed his arms over his chest. “I figured they meant you two were sexually involved, and I’m usually not that far off the mark.”

“You are this time, pal. I don’t want your hands or your mouth on me, and I won’t play nice if you touch me again. I’ll fight and, if I can, I’ll kill you.”

“I’m sure you would. But you see, Ken, that’s why I had Nathan help me restrain you before you woke up. So that I could do whatever I wanted.” He knelt again, both his hands beginning to fondle Hutch’s genitals. “Having tasted your pre-cum, my beauty, I simply must have all of you. Try to relax. You might even find yourself enjoying it. I’m very, very good at this.” 

Almost before Nash completed the sentence, the door crashed open and Starsky leaped inside. Dropping immediately into his shooter’s stance, he pointed his Beretta directly at Eddie. “You’re under arrest for kidnapping and sexual assault, not to mention drug-dealing and smuggling!”

Four uniformed officers poured into the room. Two of them hauled Nash to his feet and handcuffed him. 

Hutch had never felt so exposed and embarrassed in his life. If he’d been able to sink through the floor he’d have done it. Lacking that skill, his emotions erupted as anger. “Get these bloody cuffs off me, Starsky! The key has to be on Nash somewhere. How’d you find me so fast anyway?”

Starsky holstered his weapon and stepped toe-to-toe with Nash. Although he was answering Hutch he nailed Nash with a dagger-like stare. “Bennon and I got to the store but you two weren’t there. I left him to take care of his flowers and went back to the mart. Got there just before this slime’s flunky showed up.” He leaned closer, his stare drilling into the fake-blond’s brown eyes. “Nathan’s got no balls, Eddie. He ratted you out in a heartbeat.” 

Eddie slumped within the uniforms’ tight hold. “Too bad he couldn’t give me a little more time.” Hutch thought the look he gave Starsky was almost sorrowful before he ducked his chin toward his chest. “Key’s in the right shirt pocket.”

Starsky dug the object out and ran to Hutch. “Find my partner’s clothes,” he shouted to the remaining officers as the two keeping Nash firmly between them walked their prisoner out the smashed door. “Read him his rights!” 

Without a fumble, Starsky unlocked each manacle and left them hanging from their eye bolts. 

Hutch found he couldn’t move, and he couldn’t meet Starsky’s eyes. He was humiliated, mortified, and right at that moment, almost wished he was dead. When Starsky took a pile of clothes from one of the officers and held them out, Hutch accepted them, wordlessly. 

“Looks like a bedroom behind you, buddy. Why don’t you get dressed in there?”

Starsky’s voice was soft, reassuring and comforting but Hutch couldn’t make a sound in reply. He nodded, went in and closed the door.

 

PART THREE

On the way to Metro, Starsky kept up a running report of how, when the Firebird wasn’t at the store, he’d left Bennon to take care of his flowers and raced back to the cafe. Several of the wait staff told him that Hutch had been ‘helped’ out to the parking lot by Eddie Nash and Nathan, the busboy. Only minutes later, Nathan showed up and caved immediately. He couldn’t spill the beans about Hutch’s kidnapping, plus drug shipments and dispersal among vendors and buyers, fast enough. 

“Nathan said Eddie had turned some of the sellers onto his South American drug supplier and started babbling the names.” Starsky glanced away from the traffic but Hutch didn’t meet his eyes. “Unfortunately…” Starsky focused on his driving again, “I had to waste precious time getting backup and detectives to take care of Nathan and begin the investigation of the entire mart. The second that was done, Hutch, I corralled two patrol cars and we got to you just as fast as we could.”

Hutch understood what Starsky was trying to tell him but he wasn’t able to assuage his partner’s guilt. He’d never felt so miserable in his entire life and simply wasn’t able to offer succor at the moment. 

“Did you notice the oversized doorway he had you in?” Starsky asked.

Hutch closed his eyes, realizing the top of the jamb had been at least eighteen inches higher than his head. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. 

Superfluously, Starsky added, “The guy’s done this before!”

*******

Word must have gotten around the precinct because uniformed and plain clothes officers gave them a wide berth as Hutch led the way upstairs.

Dobey had clearly been informed of the basics; he stood in his doorway, a look of deep concern on his face. Hutch couldn’t meet his eyes, either. He moved to his desk, sat down, rolled paper into his typewriter and began to hit keys. He felt Starsky’s intense gaze on him but didn’t look up as his partner went into Dobey’s office and closed the door.

Ten minutes later, Starsky came out, sat at his desk and began his own report. “Dobey says you should go see the department shrink, Hutch.”

Hutch shook his head and kept typing. When he had finished the second page, he yanked it out, signed the bottom, stapled both together, and threw them onto Starsky’s desk. “Give this to Dobey when you take him yours. I’ll get one of the uniforms to drive me home.”

“Not gonna happen!” Starsky left his incomplete report in his typewriter and stood up in Hutch’s way. “We’re going to my place. Narcotics is so happy Dobey gave us the rest of today and tomorrow off.”

Hutch still couldn’t, wouldn’t meet Starsky’s eyes. “Let’s go now then!” He shouldered past and pushed through the double doors knowing Starsky was right behind him. 

Not wanting to be in an elevator with other people, Hutch took the stairs and waited next to the Torino. Starsky opened the driver’s side door and popped the locks. Hutch slumped into his usual place.

This time, Starsky didn’t attempt idle chatter or give more details about the case; they rode in silence to Starsky’s apartment.

Once inside, Hutch found himself paralyzed as Starsky closed and locked the door. After a few moments, his partner walked around in front and reached for Hutch’s jacket. Involuntarily, he jumped back and raised his hands in a warding gesture. “Don’t touch me!” 

Starsky managed to cover his shock and hurt but Hutch saw them and his gut clenched. He hadn’t meant to cause such pain; his reaction had been instantaneous and unconscious. 

Starsky stepped back. “Okay. But you have to talk to me.”

Hutch leaned heavily against the door and shook his head. “No, I don’t. You’re not my captain or the department shrink.”

Starsky shed his jacket and holster onto the coat tree. “You’re right. I’m neither of those.” He looked searchingly at Hutch. “What I am is your best friend, and partner.”

Hutch took a couple of deep breaths, trying to quell his roiling emotions. Okay, he decided, let’s see if Starsky’s as grounded as he appears. He stared into the deep blue eyes he thought he knew so well. “Nash said… you’re in love with me.”

That must not have been what Starsky expected to hear because he turned away and walked to the couch. “Well, damn him straight to Hell!”

Hutch stayed where he was. “Are you?”

Starsky plopped down and lifted his feet to the coffee table before he met Hutch’s questioning gaze. “Yes.”

Hutch pushed off the door. He took his jacket off and hung it next to Starsky’s. The holster followed and, as he walked slowly toward where Starsky was waiting patiently, he felt as if the air between them had turned to invisible molasses. “When were you going to tell me?”

“When you were ready.”

“I’ll never be ready!” Hutch began to pace back and forth. “Nash said that, too. Said I was folded in on myself, completely repressed.” He stopped and slumped onto the other end of the couch. “Said I was probably raised Lutheran or Catholic.”

Starsky actually chuckled. “Hutch, when we were at the academy you were the most tightly controlled person I’d ever met. You’ve loosened up a lot since then.”

“Not consciously. I still consider every word I say, every action I take. It was conditioned into me as a kid. Always trying to do something my parents would be proud of and never succeeding. I can’t be spontaneous. I can’t be ‘open’. I’m not like you!”

“Wouldn’t want you to be. Can you imagine the world with two of me in it?” Starsky sent a lop-sided grin his way.

Hutch smothered a chuckle. “No.” He crossed his arms and felt himself drawing inward. “Eddie said I was like a rose that would never bloom.”

Starsky got up and went to the kitchen, coming back with two bottles of beer. He opened one and gave it to Hutch before sitting back down on his end of the sofa and opening his own. “I’ll buy the rose part.” He tossed the two caps and the church key on the coffee table before rolling the bottle between his palms. “You’re my long-stemmed American Beauty, Hutch.” He took a swallow of beer then turned, his expression as intense as Hutch had ever seen it. “As for not blooming? What the _fuck_ does he know? He’s never seen you comfort a victim, or keep me from goin’ off the deep end when I was so mad I couldn’t see straight. He’s never seen your compassion, your strength, dependability, loyalty, dedication, and commitment. He’s never seen the Hutch I know.” Starsky’s eyes bored into him. “The Hutch I love.”

Hutch put the bottle on the coffee table and held his shaking hands out in front of him. “Is this the Hutch you know? The Hutch you love?”

“Yes.”

“Why, for God’s sake?”

“Because of all the things I just mentioned. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s your honesty, your intelligence, street-smarts, wisdom… even when you’re making fun of me.” Starsky reached and took Hutch’s palsied hands. “I trust you, Hutch. I think you’ve been the most important person in the world to me since our first day at the academy. It took me a long time to realize it though, and I’ve been waiting for the right moment to talk it over with you.” Starsky let go and leaned back in his corner. “Waited too long, I guess.”

Hutch folded his arms again. “I’m a mess, Starsky.”

“Right now, maybe. You’ve been violated, Hutch, like every other rape victim. That sonavabitch took advantage of you in the worst possible way.”

“Not the worst. He didn’t fuck me.”

Starsky shuddered. “Thank God for small favors.”

“You found me in time. But I’m still a wreck.”

“You won’t stay that way long, babe. You’ll think about everything Nash said, weigh it against what you know is the truth, and figure out that you’re exactly the person you need to be. That _I_ need you to be.”

Hutch didn’t want to ask the next question but found he had to. “When I figure all that out, will you still love me?”

“Nothing can change that, Hutch. I will always love you!”

Hutch drew farther back into his corner of the couch. “Even if I can never let you touch me again?”

Hutch searched his partner’s eyes and saw the truth before Starsky spoke. “Yes. Even then.”

The terror inside began to loosen it’s hold, just a little, on Hutch’s heart. “But I couldn’t live that way. I’m pretty sure I’d need you in my life and, if you’re in my life, we’re together.” He turned toward Starsky. “And if we’re together, we have to be touching.” Tentatively, he held out his hand. Starsky scooted a little closer, took it, and entwined their fingers. 

They sat that way, simply holding hands, for a long time. Finally, Hutch shook himself and started to get up. “Guess we need some light.”

Starsky held on tight. “No, we don’t.” 

Hutch peered through the dimness. “I can hardly see you.”

“Then come closer.” Starsky’s voice was smiling.

Slowly, Hutch moved across the couch, helped by the gentle tug of Starsky’s fingers.

“Can I put my arm around you?” Starsky’s tone was full of uncertainty.

“Okay.”

Starsky gently draped his right arm across the back of the couch, barely touching Hutch’s shoulders. “Too much?”

Hutch settled into the curve. “No.”

“We’ve sat like this hundreds of times, Hutch.”

“Was I this scared?”

The arm dropped a little more solidly into place. “I don’t think so.”

Inch by inch, Hutch leaned against his partner. He knew he was falling asleep and tried to fight it but failed. When he woke up, his head was on Starsky’s shoulder and it felt… right.

“You okay?” Starsky asked.

“Yes…. No.” Hutch sat up, an uncomfortable thought having come to him in his drowse. “Have you ever made love to a man?”

“No.” Starsky’s tone was soft but unequivocal.

“Not even in the army?”

“I exchanged hand-jobs and a few blow-jobs while I was in the service, but it had nothing to do with love, Hutch. Believe me.”

“Eddie said only a man can give real pleasure to another man.”

Starsky snorted. “Well, damn him, again! I’m beginning to hate him more than I thought, but… Shit! He’s probably right. I know what feels good to me, what I like, but I couldn’t begin to try to explain it to a woman. Or teach her how to do it.” 

Hutch discovered he really needed an answer to his next question. “Now that you know how repressed I am, why would you even want to have sex with me?” 

Starsky tightened his arm around Hutch’s shoulders. “I’ve always known how closed off you are, Hutch, but it didn’t keep me from falling in love with you." He picked up Hutch's left fist with his free hand and held it tightly. "I know, from the army, that making love and having sex can be very different. With us though, I’m thinking they’d be exactly the same.” He stroked Hutch’s right arm lightly. “I love you.”

Hutch’s breath caught in his throat. “Still?”

“Yes, still. And always. I’ll say it as often as you need to hear it. I’ll love you forever, Hutch. And, if you never feel the same, that’s okay, too. I can live with that. What I couldn’t live with is not having you in my life.”

“Will you give me time?”

“As much as you need.”

A chuckle escaped Hutch’s throat and he didn’t know where it had come from. “Patience isn’t your strong suit, Starsky. Why are you being so accommodating tonight?”

“Because it’s what you need, Hutch. Now, why don’t you just shut up, put your head back on my shoulder, and go to sleep for a while?”

Hutch knew he was terribly tired and wanted nothing more than to do exactly what Starsky had suggested, until he could more rationally think about what had happened. What _was_ happening. But he was suddenly aware of what Starsky had been through that day, too, and it caused him to soften his tone even more. “You’ve had almost as rough a day as I’ve had, partner. Wouldn’t we both be more comfortable on the bed?” 

Starsky stiffened. “I was afraid to suggest that. Afraid you’d think I’d try to take advantage of your weakened state.” There was a hint of humor under the words.

“My ‘weakened state’? I can still take you, pal. Any time, any place.”

“Not here, Hutch,” Starsky whispered. “And not now.”

“Okay, maybe later. But the bed _would_ be more comfortable.”

“Did you want to grab a shower first?”

Hutch drew in a breath and realized that Starsky really did mean more to him than any other person in his life. Maybe it was time for them to explore this new dimension of their relationship. “Will you wash my back?”

“Hutch….”

Hutch sat up and glanced into his partner’s startled eyes before dropping his own to his clenched hands. “Listen, Starsk… I freaked out today but, sitting here with you, everything Nash said is making some sense.” He raised his eyes to Starsky’s again. “You’ve always been my very best friend, the best partner a man could have. Why wouldn’t you also be the best lover I’ve ever known?”

Starsky was suddenly blushing. “No reason I can think of.”

Hutch nudged him in the ribs. “Goofball.”

Starsky gently pushed him away and stood up. He reached down and caught both of Hutch’s hands, drawing him to his feet. “Bath, Hutch, not a shower. A nice relaxing hot bath. And, yes, I’ll wash your back.”

Leading Hutch into the bathroom, Starsky put the plug in the drain, turned on the taps, regulated the temperature, and threw in a handful of some sort of salts while Hutch took his clothes off. Hutch had never been bashful about his body and knew Starsky had seen him nude dozens of times. For the first time ever though, he felt himself blushing because Starsky had seen him, only hours before, aroused by Eddie’s ministrations. Would Starsky still be able to look at him the same way he always had? Knowing he was being cowardly, and ducking the chance to catch any kind of expression on Starsky’s face, he slid into the filling tub. 

Starsky picked up his clothes and left the room. When he came back, he hung the terry cloth robe Hutch kept at his apartment on the back of the door. Turning around, he shut off the water before grabbing a washcloth off the rack and the bar of soap from the basin. Then, rolling his sleeves up, he knelt at the side of the tub. “Lean forward, babe.” 

Hutch rolled himself into a ball over his knees and Starsky began soaping and gently massaging his back and neck with the soft, wet cloth. After Starsky had finished Hutch held up his right arm. “You’re doing better than I would, Starsk.”

Starsky looked at him, the question and concern blatant in his eyes. Hutch nodded and leaned against the rear slope of the tub. Carefully, tenderly, Starsky soaped and rinsed Hutch’s arms, hands, chest, legs and feet. “The rest is up to you, buddy.” Starsky put the cloth in Hutch’s hand and started to get up. 

Hutch grabbed onto his arm. He knew his turmoil and anxiety were plain on his face but he couldn’t do anything about them. He simply didn’t have the courage to wash his genitals. “I can’t, Starsk. I couldn’t… touch myself down there right now if my life depended on it.”

“Are you sure, Hutch? I don’t want to do anything to cause you one more second of insecurity or worry.”

Hutch allowed his pleading gaze to bore into his partner. “I need you to take away the feel of his hands… his mouth…” 

Starsky sat back abruptly and a flush rose up his neck, nearly setting his face on fire. “I didn’t realize he’d --”

“My body reacted, Starsk.” Hutch shuddered and closed his eyes. “I didn’t want it to, was horrified when it did. But I began to get hard and he sucked me…. Until, a few seconds later, I vomited.” Starsky actually chuckled and Hutch opened his eyes. 

Starsky could barely hide his hopeful expression. “Did you get any on that slick shirt of his?” 

Hutch shook his head. “He ducked.”

Starsky laughed out loud. “Sorry I missed that part.”

“I need to feel _your_ hands there, Starsk, not his. I never want to remember what his felt like, ever again!”

“Then keep your eyes open and watch. These are my hands, Hutch, no one else’s. And I love you.” Starsky lifted the flaccid cock as if it were the most precious, delicate piece of porcelain, and soaped it thoroughly. Then he lowered the cloth into the water and gently washed the balls. 

To Hutch’s frazzled mind it seemed to take a long time but each touch was a caress and he found himself allowing emotions he’d never thought about to float to the surface. These gentle hands belonged to David Starsky, his best friend since the academy. The partner who’d come to his rescue more times than he could count and whose life he had managed to save a few times, too. This was the man he trusted above all others; the man he’d come to depend on for everything in his life that made any sense at all. These were the hands of love. The kind and depth of love he’d never known from a woman, any woman! And, with a shock of understanding, Hutch realized that Starsky wasn’t the only one in this partnership who’d fallen in love. God damn! Maybe he’d have to visit Nash in jail and thank him. Yeah, right, like that was ever going to happen.

Hutch woke up as the water was draining. Starsky helped him out of the tub and quickly but gently dried him off.

Starsky rolled his sleeves down, took the robe off the hook and held it open. Hutch slipped into it, belted it tightly around his waist, and followed his partner into the bedroom. Neither of them turned on a light as Hutch pulled the spread down and stretched out on the right side of the bed on top of the sheets. Starsky moved around to the left before lying down beside him and hauling the spread back up over both of them.

Hutch put a hand on Starsky’s sweater-clad forearm. “Aren’t you going to get undressed?” 

“Not right now, Hutch. Maybe later. We’ll see.” He patted Hutch’s hand. “Go to sleep, babe. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Half an hour later Hutch hadn’t fallen asleep and he knew Starsky was still awake, too. “This doesn’t feel right. Does it to you?”

“It does if this is what you want. We need to take this real slow, Hutch. You’re in brand new territory here and if anything I do scares you or makes you want to back away from me, we may never be able to repair the damage.”

Hutch couldn’t contain a sigh. “I understand. But I want to try something.” He turned onto his side, facing away from Starsky. “If you rolled closer, with your front to my back, you could put your arm around my waist and I could hold your hand against my chest. Would that be okay?”

“I think it’s called ‘spoons’.” Hutch could hear the smile in Starsky’s voice. “And, yes, that would work.”

Starsky snuggled up behind him and put his arm over Hutch’s waist. Hutch held the hand tight against his heart. “I don’t want to be all closed up any longer, Starsk. I want to unfold, to feel the sun, really feel the sun, maybe for the first time ever.”

“Then you will, Hutch. I promise.”

*******

A closed-up flower  
that’s never seen the sunlight  
is loved into bloom

END


End file.
